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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526072">Daughter of Mischief</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepticalTrees04/pseuds/SkepticalTrees04'>SkepticalTrees04</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mythology, Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Female Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mythology - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 06:01:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>695</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27526072</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkepticalTrees04/pseuds/SkepticalTrees04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>(o trueborn daughter of mischief, do you hear her whispers? the whispers of mother?)</p><p>Mieczysława Stilinski is her daughter, her most favored child, born out of chaos and lies.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>69</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Daughter of Mischief</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>daughter of mischief</em>
</p><p>A faint heartbeat can be heard from the girls once lifeless, and cold body.</p><p>
  <em>wake up</em>
</p><p>Eyes the color of whiskey open as the water ripples around her.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Here is how it begins:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Girl dressed in flannel, all rebel fire and snarky quips armed with a baseball bat, and a drive to protect her family. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Girl with hazel eyes, as warm as summer and as cold as winter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A girl named for glory, glory for hopeless hope and raging flame, light and warm that comforts in the dark and the cold, not because of fame and honor, but for the safety of her pack.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Madness seeps into her, but she does not bend, does not yield to it. The girl is indomitable, as only either the impossibly strong or the irreparably broken can be.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She will never yield.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Until she does.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>(And this girl, named for glory, can almost feel it. Almost brushes against it, the chaoschaoschaoschaos, w</em>
  <em>hen a monster or a creep chasing her manages to trip over something that wasn't there before, or when she is forced to break through the mountain ash barrier.)</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her friends think she is a spark, small yet mighty, a light in the darkness.</p><p> </p><p>She is a spark.</p><p> </p><p>But sparks spread.</p><p> </p><p>And she become an inferno.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Mieczysława Stilinsk has died three times in her seventeen years of life.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>(The first time her lungs fill with water, with the cold slowly creeping into her body, into her bones and into her mind, with the last amount of air leaving her frozen lungs and with the light fading from behind her closed eyes.</p><p>When she awakes from deaths watery embrace minutes later, with a darkness in her soul she gasps for breath and hugs her family.</p><p>She thinks nothing of it.)</p><p> </p><p>(The second time the girl’s head smashed against the car’s window, her skull cracked, blood was spilling instantly from the laceration, drenching her hair and her clothes.She didn’t notice any of this as she hung rather than sat motionless in the car seat. Hitting her head had rendered her unconscious immediately.</p><p>Her breathing had become slower.</p><p>Blood had kept flowing steadily from the open wound.</p><p>At this time the sleepwalking was such a norm, waking up covered in blood, hers or someone else's, was a semi-normal occurrence.</p><p>She thinks nothing of it.)</p><p> </p><p>(The third time she wakes up in a parking lot, surrounded by a puddle of blood. Her shirt is ripped in the middle, and a thin broken blade is sticking out of her stomach.</p><p>Before she can attempt to pull the blade, she begins to feel something. </p><p>It's like an itch behind her eyes.</p><p>
  <em>chaoschaoschaoschaos</em>
</p><p>Before her eyes flicker close, they flash an electric green.</p><p>When she awakes hours later, after unwrapping herself from the mummy like bandages and crawling out of the floor, she know something is wrong.)</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>That itch, to do something bad, to hurt someone, to lie, had been there before the fox spirit took control of her body.</p><p>It was there every time she key she ever copied, every prank she ever played, and every lie she ever told.</p><p>And it didn't go away.</p><p>It only got stronger.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She awoke from nightmares with eyes green as poison and blood-curling screams. Her father who had started to take more shifts at the station wasn't there for the the dreams in which she would wake up blood soaked fingers and long scratches along the inside of her arm.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>She was no fox.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She was a snake.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>And you should never trust a snake.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>When the nogitsune disintegrates in front of them, her eyes glow a brilliant green that illuminates the darkness. Her thin lips twist into a smirk as the glow diminishes. She picks herself up off the floor and shakily rises to her feet.</p><p>Her friends step back in fear, all with identical looks of confusion and shock on their face, before they freeze in place. She starts to walk down the hallway and out the door, not before squishing the still-moving glow bug into the ground with her heel.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Her mother would be proud.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>This is a trick.</em>
</p>
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